Pancakes and Tantrums
by Rottweiler7692
Summary: Joe is feeling lazy and hungry. A humorous fluffy oneshot.


**This is the product of being really bored home alone. Just some brotherly fluff. Something sort of like this happened to me. I'm really lazy.**

Joe Hardy awoke from his slumber to the aromatic smell of pancakes and maple syrup. "Mmm," he said sleepily. He tried to rise into a sitting position and promptly tumbled to the ground with a dull _thump _and a grunt on top of the TV's remote control. The channel abruptly switched from football to the Power Rangers. He'd forgotten the fact that he was on the couch instead of his nice, warm, comfy bed. He heard a snort.

"Graceful, little bro, graceful," Frank commented at Joe's display.

"Shut up," Joe scowled. His scowl turned into a hungry grin as his stomach grumbled loudly, causing Frank to laugh out loud. "Pancakes?" Joe asked eagerly, now fully awake. "How come?"

"Dad's celebrating his last case. He's really excited. I guess it went really well."

"Dad made pancakes?" Joe asked again.

"Yeah, but Mom helped him because he didn't know where anything was."

"Where're my pancakes?" Joe asked, watching Frank as he took another bite, maple syrup oozing from the pancake.

"He didn't make you any. We finished all of them," Frank replied with a straight face.

"What?!" Joe exclaimed.

"God, you're so gullible. Of course Dad made enough for you. He was up at eight, making them. I just took a shower after my run. I was late getting up."

"You call nine o'clock _late_?" Joe asked incredulously. "And anyway, everybody's gullible this early in the morning."

"It's 10:30, Joe," Frank replied disbelievingly.

"So? It's a Saturday."

"Which makes 10:30 early?"

"Dude, I need my beauty rest."

"Oh, I see. I guess that's why you always sleep for, like, twelve hours on weekends. You need all the _beauty _rest you can get." Joe threw a sofa cushion at his brother and Frank hunched over his pancakes to protect them from the soft artillery.

"Where are they?"

"Where are what?" Frank asked, playing dumb.

"My pancakes, where are they?"

"Where do you think they are?" Frank teased, enjoying the look on Joe's face as he pressed the hungry, albeit lazy youth's buttons.

"In the kitchen."

"Amazing!" Frank crowed, "Give the man a prize."

"Shut up," Joe glowered at his brother. "It's too early."

"Joe, they're in the fridge with the maple syrup. Go heat them up."

"I thought we didn't have any maple syrup?" Joe asked, still not moving.

"We didn't but Mom got some special for you because she knows how much you hate the buttery kind. You just want the more expensive one. What would you do if we didn't spoil you so much?" Frank sighed.

"You just don't appreciate good taste buds," Joe returned. He stared at Frank's plate longingly. "What time did I fall asleep?" He inched along the couch to where Frank was sitting.

"Around 11 or something. You looked so tired that we didn't want to wake you. I, for one, didn't mind not having you next door. If you're asleep, you snore and talk in your sleep. If you're not, you're tossing and turning."

"I do not snore or sleep talk," Joe said indignantly, looking up.

"Sure you do. Remember that dream you had about Jessica Alba about three nights ago?" Joe blushed an interesting shade of red that could match the plaid on his boxers.

"What did I say?" Joe asked warily.

"Oh, I couldn't decipher most of it," Frank said cheerfully, "but I could hear a couple words repeated a couple times. At least you weren't talking as loud as that time about two weeks ago. Man, was I surprised that Mom and Dad didn't wake up and come to investigate your choice of dreams." Joe blushed deeper. Now his face matched the strawberries on Frank's plate.

"Yep, you've had lots of interesting dreams in your lifetime, little brother," Frank said, his eyes clouding as he reminisced on his brother's embarrassing dreams. He suddenly lifted his plate out of Joe's groping hand's reach. "I'm not _that_ distracted, Joe. Go get your own pancakes. These are mine."

"Aww, come on," Joe protested, "I'm hungry and I would have to get up and go all the way to the kitchen, all the way to the fridge, and then I would have to take out the pancakes, then go all the way to the microwave, then – "

"Okay, okay," Frank interrupted, "I get the picture."

"Please?" Joe gave Frank his best puppy dog look that usually got him what he wanted. He was wounded when Frank completely ignored him. Frank knew that if he took one look at his brother's face, he would indulge him.

"Nope, you're waay too spoiled. Gimme the remote."

"No." Joe lunged over and snatched the remote from the floor. "I'll give it to you if you either get pancakes for me or give me yours."

"No, I'm good." Frank got up. Joe watched him eagerly but his face fell when Frank walked over to the TV and changed it back to the football channel he was watching and turned the volume up.

"Fraank, while you're up, why don't you just go to the kitchen? It's not that much farther."

"Sorry, bro. If you want them, go get them yourself." In response, Joe scowled, crossing his muscular, tanned arms across his chest and sank down into the couch. Frank took one look at him and burst out laughing. "God Joe, how old are you supposed to be? Five? Are you going to throw a tantrum and cry just 'cause you're too lazy to get up and go to the kitchen?"

"Shut up. And I did not use to throw tantrums."

"Oh no? Ask Mom or Dad. Actually, ask anybody in this neighborhood. I swear, everybody could hear you screaming."

"Shut _up_."

"Nice comeback, Joe." Joe scowled harder and slid lower down the couch. "You shouldn't do that so much. Your face will freeze in that position," was Frank's only comment before he ignored him and tried to turn back to the game.

It was getting harder and harder to concentrate both on his food and the game with Joe staring at him. He wasn't blinking or moving a muscle. It was beginning to freak Frank out because Joe was usually, no _always_, energetic and constantly in motion.

Frank found the fork missing his mouth more and more often because he was distracted by Joe's piercing gaze boring into him and his food. Finally, when a piece of food fell to the carpet, he gave up.

"Fine, you can have some of my stupid pancakes." Frank sighed heavily. Joe would always be spoiled but there was really nothing he could do about it. He knew he certainly couldn't resist him.

"Yes!" Joe exulted. He picked up Frank's fork and spearing a large piece, took a bite. "Mmm," he sighed contentedly, closing his eyes. When he opened his eyes again, Frank was staring at him. "What?"

"You could have waited 'till you got your own fork."

"It's okay, I don't care," Joe said indifferently.

"Joe, they're _my _pancakes. I care. I was still eating," Frank said, his patience beginning to slip.

Joe paused, his mouth full. With an innocent, angelic smile, he held out the plate to Frank. Frank rolled his eyes. Why did he even bother? He would never be able to oppose his little brother. He got up to get another fork for himself. He didn't get another plate of pancakes for himself though. Joe wasn't the only lazy one in the family.

**Please Review!**


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